


"Imagine Getting Drunk and Confessing Your Love for Dean Winchester" One Shot

by screengeekdiaries



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Kissing, M/M, Stars, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screengeekdiaries/pseuds/screengeekdiaries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The after effects of getting really drunk on whisky and deciding to chase it down with someone else's vodka.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Imagine Getting Drunk and Confessing Your Love for Dean Winchester" One Shot

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by ["Imagine getting drunk and confessing your love for Dean" One Shot](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/39763) by Piercemypanicbride.tumblr.com/supernaturalimagines.tumblr.com. 



You knew that last scotch was a bad idea. Especially when you decided to chase it down with a shot of vodka that some poor guy accidently left on the counter. But after having quite possibly the shittest hunt you’ve ever experienced, closely followed by watching Dean attempting to pick up every girl in the bar for the last few hours, you felt that the least you deserved was to drown your sorrows in peace.

Sadly, that peace abruptly ended when you took a swing at Vodka-Man for yelling at you. Such a shame really, he was quite pretty until he started crying. Some men just can’t handle a broken nose.

“I mean, come on! You’ve had plenty of broken noses in your time, I don’t see you whimpering like a little girl about it” You re-iterated to Dean half an hour later, as he half dragged, half walked you back to the motel. Even in your somewhat inebriated state, you could feel the ‘I’m 100% Done’ face he was pulling in response. 

“Because (y/n), I have been a Hunter since childhood and have taken every beating imaginable since then. The guy you hit was about 20 and had probably never even seen a fight on TV”

“Pussy” Well, it comes out more like “puschy” which seemed to make Dean chuckle under his breath. Maybe he’s not as angry at you as you thought when your drunken shenanigans effectively cockblocked his night with the barmaid. 

You look up at him, trying to build a sentence from the hazy, sluggish mess that was once your brain that would fully convey how sorry you were for ruining his night, when the moon appeared from behind a cloud and lit up his face. Under its pale glow you see the freckles that smattered across his nose and jawline, usually indistinguishable from his tanned complexion in the daytime. Not that you usually notice things like that about Dean, not at all, it’s just that you were really close to him right now, even as he leans you up against the side of the motel while he fished the room keys from his pocket. Yeah, that’s the reason. 

“God, you’re freckly”

“What?” The look of pure confusion on his face should have told you that was a somewhat odd thing to say. Even for you.  
Well, your pickled brain tells you, you’ve started now. In for a penny and all that...

“Your freckles. They’re beautiful” One hand reaches out and, after a little wobble, comes to rest on his cheek “Like the stars. It’s like the stars fell from the sky and danced across your face”

He looks at you, silent for a moment, his eyes like lichen raking over your face trying to suss out where you’re going with this train of thought. A small shaky smile twitched in the corner of his mouth. 

“Anyone ever tell you you get really poetic after a few, (y/n)?”

You feel his arms reach round to steady you as you leave the stabilisation of the wall behind you.

“I love the stars” 

And you know he doesn’t do chick flick moments, neither do you really, you’ve both seen too much horror and evil in this world to believe in sentimental shit like that. But in the shadow of that motel stoop, surrounded by the soft glow of the star filled sky and that one, blinking Open sign, it just all finally falls out.

“I love you, Dean”

That final hair-breath gap between the two of you comes to a swift close as his mouth finds yours. He tastes like whiskey and sunshine, and faintly of the apple pie he had for dinner. You feel his hands leave your back as they run through your hair, those calloused hands so used to being wrapped round the barrel of his Colt now tenderly caressing your face, whilst you feel yours grip at the tough, warm leather of the lapels of his jacket. He didn’t need to say it back, even whilst pissed you could tell that this was his way, the Dean Winchester way, of telling you he loved you too.

You knew that last scotch was a good idea, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was the very first fanfic/one shot I ever wrote, and it gained a few likes on Tumblr so I decided, why not, to start posting them on here.  
> I really hope you like my baby steps into the world of fanfiction, fingers crossed there'll be more to come!


End file.
